A Hackneyed Yarn
by Jaslazul
Summary: A retelling of the events at the camp prior to First Knight. Oneshot.


This is one of those things that I didn't mean to write, but it wouldn't stop nagging me until I did. Mainly because the game did this part rather quickly (not like a video game maker would ever have any other option) and because the Grey Warden's involvement in the development of the romance arc is approximately zero. That, and I have save-and-load-and-pick-the-best-option syndrome... so I figured it would be interesting to see what my character would _really_ say, and it turned out a bit different than I expected.

* * *

The susseration of the leaves, the crackle of the fire in front of her, and the echo of dull thoughts were the only sounds Shara had heard in some time. Today's duty was done; they now rested at the camp, but she knew it was only temporary. The next day would bring more of the same, and there was nothing she or anyone else could do to stop it. It was a cold life—and a cold night—but at least the fire brought some relief, albeit temporary.

She sighed, looking upwards: the sky was cloudy that night, but she could still see the occasional group of stars peeking out from behind their cover. Bringing her eyes down, she let them focus on Tiberius, her Mabari, sitting a few feet from her. He looked back at her and panted, looking as sentimental as ever, and then she let her eyes drift farther away, past Wynne, to Alistair.

Alistair sat almost directly across from her, a few feet back from the fire, to which he held out his hands to warm. He'd taken off his armor and now sat clad in common clothing. His face was grim and pensive—unusual, she thought; perhaps he was having the same thoughts as she?—but she didn't let her eyes linger there too long, lest he notice her looking. When she looked away, she was smiling. There was one good thing still in the world, at least, and though she'd never been the religious type, she thanked the Maker every day for it.

She started when there was movement beside her, but it was Leliana. "Something you need?" Shara said.

"No; I just finished readying my equipment for tomorrow," she said, "and thought I might rest by the fire for a bit."

Shara said nothing: instead, she stared into the fire. She thought she saw movement from Alistair across it, but ignored it for the moment.

Leliana must have noticed it, because she said, "You know he's looking at you, right?"

Shara couldn't resist smiling a bit. "I know."

"He has been acting strange recently..." She paused, as if she were expecting a response. "Maybe you should ask him about it? He'll talk to you about anything, right?"

Shara shrugged, stretching her limbs a bit. "If he wants to talk, he'll talk. No sense in pressuring him."

Leilana didn't seem to have much to say in response to that. She sat by the fire for a few minutes before standing, saying that it was awfully late and she needed rest for the next day's exploits. Not soon after, Wynne also retired; and Shara, Alistair, and Tiberius were alone by the fireside.

A few long minutes passed, during which she felt as if she were expected to do something, but she could think of nothing so she waited. Eventually, she heard movement from across the fire, and then heavy footsteps approaching. Her eyes followed Alistair as he drew nearer and as he sat himself down beside her. For a while, he stared with suspicious focus into the fire; a few minutes passed in this fashion until he cleared his throat, looked over at her, and said, "Hey."

The firelight glinted off his eyes, creating a mirrory sheen. She felt that she could see the spirits in them, looking back on her—and she did feel them; she always felt them the most when he was nearby. Too late, she realized she was staring and looked away. "Hey. Something on your mind?"

"No." He blinked. "Well, yes. Sort of."

She couldn't help laughing. But this was the part, she realized, where neither of them knew what to say, and it became so awkward that both of them wished this had never happened. No, she wouldn't let that happen.

"You know," she said, "this _is _a beautiful world we live in."

"It's too bad we'll lose it all if we can't beat the archdemon." The bluntness took her completely by surprise, and it must have done the same for him, because he turned to look at her. "That's... not what I meant to say. I'm sorry, now I've ruined the moment."

His ability to acknowledge and amend his own fallings had always amazed her, and now it brought another smile to her face. "You haven't ruined anything," she said. "Not yet, at least. Now what's troubling you so that you're acting like this? Have you been _thinking_ again?"

He ventured to say, "Yes... I have," but that was as much as he would allow.

"Lelaiana says you've been looking at me."

His face visibly reddened and drew back a bit. "Well... I might have been. Just a little."

Between them, unspoken and unacknowledged, but more tangible than any words they could have said, passed two lines: from her to him, _You've been doing a lot of that lately_; and from him to her, _Did you really need for her to tell you that?_

"I've been thinking," he said, "about where all of this is going to end up."

She nodded, thinking, _As have I_.

"You know that... something could happen, right? To either of us, or both. And it probably will."

"I know." And she did; it had crossed her mind countless times before, but she couldn't bring herself to act on it. What they had, she'd justified, kept them strong, gave them some light in a world of darkness and death. She'd faced powerful foes before, sometimes alone, and the thought that kept her fighting was always that the struggles today would tomorrow be something to discuss and joke about with him.

"It's getting more and more difficult every day," Alistair said, looking into the fire. "It's hard to sleep sometimes. Worrying about my life for the next day and all."

"Oh, you'll be fine. It takes a lot to bring you down."

"Only because you have my back," he said, his face grim.

Shara felt her face burning, and she instinctively reached up to scratch her hair. "Well..."

"But what if you can't help me? What if you're being attacked? Or what if you've spent so much of your energy on me that you can't defend yourself?"

"You watch out for me, though." Shara wasn't sure she liked where this was going. "You watch out for everyone."

Alistair was silent for a while. A gentle, yet somewhat chilling wind blew in, making his hair appear to dance.

"You can't think in _what-if_s—and—and what's got you thinking like this? I haven't seen you this serious since..." she trailed off, not wanting to touch on tender memories.

"That could've been us." He paused, staring directly at her, spirit-gleaming eyes boring through her. "There's something I've been wanting to talk about, but I don't know how to say it."

"Just spit it out, you royal bastard. It's easier for us both that way."

"Alright. I'll try..." He cleared his throat. "Would you... join me in my tent tonight?"

Shara wasn't sure what she had been expecting, but that certainly wasn't it. She kept waiting for the words to sink in, and for some kind of reaction from her, but nothing came. Instead, she blinked at him, saying what she felt she had to. "This is... kind of sudden."

"I know it's kind of sudden," he said, the words rushed, "but you told me to say it."

"I suppose I did," she said. She looked at him, honestly looked at him. She took in the curve of his lips, the trembling of his figure, and the powerful, but restrained strength she knew was in him. He could rip apart a darkspawn in seconds, but with her, he was always impossibly gentle. He was the kind of man than any woman would fall for, and here he was waiting for her response to The Question. It seemed unreal, now that she thought about it—as if he'd said the words, and she knew what they meant, but at the same time their meaning hadn't yet percolated to her hindbrain.

Maybe it didn't seem so startling because it was Alistair speaking to her, and with him, everything seemed to come so naturally. Maybe it didn't seem so startling because regardless of what he said, she was bound to agree with him sooner or later, not from obligation, rather from the way their minds were interlocked. Something inside her, or maybe between them, made the concept of sharing a bed innocent, calming, and natural; and so The Question, something she'd always thought about with so much guilt and trepidation, was now just a part of what they were, and she knew it had been answered before it was asked.

"Alistair, yes—I will join you tonight."

His eyes lit up. "Will you really? That's—"

He cut himself off as Shara put an arm around his shoulder and drew him in. She pressed his lips against his, savoring the moment—and then the two retired to bed, and Shara couldn't keep herself from smiling. The spirits had been good to her.


End file.
